le dieu et l'homme
by gnails
Summary: Experimental plus quasiHC. House comes to terms with human imperfection and understands that he's no god.


_Usual disclaimers apply. It's an experimental piece so consider yourself warned._

* * *

Gregory House is not a god. And therefore, in any aspect, is not a deity.

Despite his world-renown diagnostics team and acclaimed prestige for being the "it" doctor at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, he is not divine and he is not invincible. His acute perceptiveness and sarcastic intensity for social manipulation contrasts darkly with the wooden cane in his hand and the limp in his leg.

House is no god, but he never admits he's handicapped. He never admits he was as less a man than before.

(However, he does admit he's a cripple, but that's for his advantage anyway.)

Because without his vast knowledge and keen personality, House knows deep down that he's nothing but a bitter old man with a bum leg and a medical degree. (House always grasped that a medical degree never differentiates those who _did_ something and those who _didn't_ do something.)

What about the puzzled then? Puzzles—ah he always loved Rubik's cubes. He could finish them in half a minute (a record, mind you). And understandably, he's always wanted to solve the puzzle (in sacrifice his love, his faith, his leg, his happiness…).

Even though he wasn't a god, he struck awe and terror (at unlikely times) with an orange Vicodin bottle in his pocket.

Still, he really isn't a god, but the truth is, he empathizes. He knows pain, he's felt pain in every form (dull, throbbing, sharp), and while his patients scream at him for his brutally honest apathy, he truly knows (and reluctantly understands) but never shows.

(Another thing to add when proving House is no god.)

He's been accused of playing god due to his unorthodox methods. He'll even tell you that he has competed against the big man of above (tally scoreboard included and all).

It's no sweat. Find the cause (disease, toxin, evil ex), give the cure, and the little girl with pigtails almost thinks House is comparable to Zeus. Almost. And Gregory House leaves to an empty apartment (except with a mouse named Steve McQueen).

In the end, he usually saves the day (plus patient), but no mere mortals sacrifice sheep, no wine, no celebrations at temples. All that's left is frazzled gratitude he doesn't want and a constant reminder of mistakes from the past.

Allison Cameron wants to see that no man is an island (because gods are islands, and she has no faith in gods). She comes to check her boss before leaving because it was the second patient that died this month (and a child no less). She'll get yelled at, berated, insulted. Yet even Cameron knows House is no god and that reassures her.

(He was a broken man and that told her he wasn't all-knowing and unfeeling.)

She peers through half shut blinds before opening the door. White pills line up in neat rows on House's desk. He doesn't even bother looking up.

He isn't a god, and with that she stands on equal ground with him (but she's really not so sure).

He tugs at gray hair and rubs wrinkles on his face. Mortality was always a fickle fickle thing. His coat id still on the rack and a blue folder spills its contents (undoubtedly read and re-read millions of times) underneath artificial light.

And for the first time in a long time, House begins to cry.

Cameron watches with bizarre observance until she accepts that House is simply a man, and that becomes her absolution. She reaches him and hugs him.

He cries.

And cries because human fallibility had once again overcome House and rendered him useless. (He hates being useless. It's the sickest feeling in the world.)

For once, he admits he's useless and for once, he's not sure if he can stagger by and still be the doctor everyone believes he is. (So? Mistakes are made, but the ones that cost something vital, House is one step closer to being nothing but a bitter old man with a bum leg and a medical degree.) Right now, he does wish he was a god, and really, that thought is far from foreign to him.

But he forgets, gods are fickle fickle creatures.

But he remembers, gods are fickle fickle creatures who aren't useless, who don't fall, who don't have a partially missing thigh, feel pain, or have a fleeting and unhappy life.

But Cameron also knows that gods could never compare to House.

Everything which _was_ House, everything that made House significant and distinct was all because he was human (and like any human, he had fallen, broken, and never really recovered). And by human stain, House's failures mar his accomplishments. Cameron hugs him tighter, and House cries more but oh so silently so nobody could know that he was never a god. Cameron doesn't see him as pathetic (and probably never will), and House just wants to forget (as he usually does with a bottle of scotch and a bottle of Vicodin).

Nevertheless, he stops crying and feels like an idiot while rubbing away stray tears from red eyes. Cameron calmly hands him a tissue and smiles mysteriously as if an epiphany dawned upon her. House breathes in deeply. He picks up his cane and puts on his coat. He ushers Cameron out of his office before flicking the light switch off.

House carefully limps away without another word, and Cameron follows all the way to the parking lot. Before he puts on his helmet, he says in gruff and exhausted tone, "Bye Cameron."

She looks at him with startling clarity and smiles. "Goodbye House."

A motorcycle zooms away (and she does watch with a forlorn look).

House mimics a few of Wilson's words as he thinks _'just as God made you'_, and he finally feels a weight lifted just very slightly for the first time in a long time. He pushes the thought in the back of his mind as he veers right and speeds off into the night.

And soon after, they both inadvertently knew and quietly agreed that there was no room, resource, nor time for a god (especially for a god to be employed as the head of diagnostics at PPTH). However, House would sometimes wistfully and dolefully imagine he was a god (and sometimes, that gave him solace to pretend he was perfect), but Cameron would always remind herself the inherent truth.

Gregory House is not a god, but that's what makes him even more so brilliant.

* * *

_Confusing? I agree. The whole idea for this popped up when I had a discussion with a friend about House as a character. We ultimately came to the conclusion that what defines House are his flaws, imperfection, and "human fallibility". We understood that House was definitely a brillant doctor, but what really makes House House is everything that he sees wrong, has failed at, and everything bad that's happened to him. In turn, that affects everything he does. There's more, but...eh. Then we decided that House needed to get laid fast in the next season. Preferably with Cameron._

_Anyway, thanks for reading! Any suggestions/criticisms are actually really welcomed._


End file.
